


Cook It

by Sailorzeplin



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 21:00:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16291703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailorzeplin/pseuds/Sailorzeplin
Summary: Inktober Prompt 3





	Cook It

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for falling off of the Prompt train I got super clogged with school work

Brian was, admittedly, not the best cook. He would burn most of his food, getting distracted easily and forgoing actual cooking in favor of making little jingles about what he was making or reminding Pat about every scene of Ratatouille that he was reminded of in that moment.  
That’s why Pat did most of the cooking. 

When Pat was cooking his thin fingers moved deftly, sprinkling brightly colored seasonings in, tasting and fixing, stirring and flipping. When he cooked he had a look of patience and concentration, brow furrowed and tongue peeking out between his lips, eyes stern as he created the dish. That’s why Brian let him do most of the cooking. 

But today Brian wanted to do something nice. Pat was sick, nose stuffed and eyes watery, laying in bed coughing violently. So Brian was going to make him soup. It was soup, it couldn’t be that hard to make. And Pat always did it for him when he wasn’t feeling well, and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t return the favor?

Turns out, Brian had underestimated soup. After around half an hour of trying to start a stock and failing, Brian was ready to cry. Because goddamnit, it was soup. Not some mystical brew from another world. He tossed a spoon onto the counter, letting it clink against the accumulating pile. Brian was so caught up in his soup disasters that he hadn’t noticed Pat, shuffling into the kitchen, bathrobe wrapped around him tightly. 

“Baby what are you doing?” Pat’s concerned voice made Brian feel worse, and when he turned around to see him, slippers on his feet and hair ruffled sleepily, he had to choke back a sob.   
“God. It’s just. I was trying to make you soup. And-god this is gonna sound stupid-but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make fucking soup. How pathetic is that?” Brian felt absolutely awful, face crumbling, trying to turn away.   
“Hey. Hey no baby. It’s okay it’s-“ Pat broke into a coughing fit, arm wrapping around his face, before continuing “it’s okay. Here, I’ll help you. Watch me cook.”  
Pat turned to the pot, mixing and stirring, working diligently, while Brian stood and fussed, bringing him the things he needed; handing him tissues and tools for the soup.  
“There baby, it’s done now.”  
“But I didn’t even make it for you! You’re sick and had to make yourself your own soup! I’m pathetic.”  
“No darling, not at all. You helped so much baby. C’mon, let’s eat baby doll.”  
“Okay. But next time at least let me choose who goes in the soup. I like doing that part.”  
“Of course baby.”


End file.
